


in their eyes (am i good enough?)

by okropnyromans



Series: of what has fallen (and what will rise again) [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lowercase, give poor tommy a hug or smth hasnt he been thru enough shit already, rated t for some good ol swearing, sbi are a family, the aftermaths of the war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27742819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okropnyromans/pseuds/okropnyromans
Summary: there's something in the air of l'manburg after the war. tommy tries his best to deal with it. not everything is as easy as you'd want it to be, though.
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: of what has fallen (and what will rise again) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029387
Comments: 4
Kudos: 136





	in their eyes (am i good enough?)

the air is thick in l’manburg - you can feel everything flowing freely through it: dust from explosions still not fully settled, stench of older and fresher blood. wilbur’s betrayal. technoblade’s withers. everyone’s homes being destroyed into a big gaping crater. they all make the atmosphere feel heavy, almost suffocating. it’s actually kind of hard to breathe, tommy finds as he slides down the nearest scrape of a leftover wall. his sword lands on the ground next to him. 

inhale, harshly cough up everything that went into his lungs, exhale and repeat (but more slowly). it goes on for a few minutes, people around being too busy tending to the wounded or staring blankly into nothingness, just like tommy is doing. 

there were clouds in the sky, right before everything went to shit. clear and visible, swimming lazily through the air, making tommy want to just burrow in them (even if he knew he wouldn't be able to do that. obviously). 

but then l'manburg’s land blew up and withers cut through the very same azure sky, painting it with a sickening tint of despair.

_do you want to be a hero, tommy?_

and okay, tommy knows how scary techno can be alright. he knows it because admittedly he has been on the receiving side of his brother’s threatening spiels a lot of times already. long ago in the past. 

but none of them have ever been like- this. so raw and full of untamed emotion, and most importantly, directed **at him.** he doesn’t know what had changed to make techno turn this power against him - his younger brother - of all people.

he also doesn’t know why wilbur decided to, after all, explode l'manburg. the place he used to hold closer to his heart than anything else. tommy just doesn’t know what happened to break them apart like this.

because, see, he’s tried his best to help wilbur, to push him towards finishing the so-called symphony. but maybe he’d pushed the wrong way somewhere along the way. maybe it’s been too late for a long time now. 

_do you want to be a hero, tommy?_

and the thing is? he doesn’t! he’s tired of being in the center of everything. he’s tired of doing whatever he can only to be later dismissed and ignored. he’s tired of being goddamn betrayed by each person he loves. he just wants- to have some peace. maybe commit some only lowkey illegal crimes with tubbo, or pester techno with tubbo, or listen to his music discs with tubbo…

or even maybe to come back to his childhood house, where one of his brothers plays his stupid guitar and the other one farms his also stupid potatoes, where he can take over the world alongside his best friend. but he also knows it’s not possible anymore and it hasn’t been since each of them chose their own paths in life.

the clouds are grey (if these even are real clouds. they could be just dust and sand for all he can tell). they don’t mean peace or carefreeness. they mean only upcoming repercussions of a war. so, not the stuff tommy’s a fan of.

“hey, hey, big t,” a pair of fingers snaps in front of his face. and here’s tubbo, staring at him with these ever so innocent yet mischievous eyes, only now looking more dimmed than ever. “i think i found your dad.” 

...his dad?

he thinks of telling tubbo to go get his head checked because he’s obviously talking nonsense. his dad is either back home or away in one of his hardcore worlds, so he can’t be here, in the remnants of l’manburg. 

but maybe tommy is the one who should be getting checked for injuries, he realizes as fog from his mind partially clears and he remembers most of what’d happened a few hours prior. 

wilbur declaring him the new president. wilbur detonating the tnt. wilbur dying by the hands of phil. the same phil who’s standing in front of him, full armor on and an enchanted sword in hand, expression so soft you could think nothing bad has ever took place. it’s definitely not the same expression he wore while standing on the other side of the crater, looking down at wilbur’s dead body slowly turning to dust. 

“hey, dad,” tommy croaks out. there are no words he can think of right now to ask about why is wilbur dead and why isn’t he back yet (even if he’s still mad at the bastard, even if he might not be able to forgive him, he’d be damned if he wasn’t worried. they’re brothers, right? and that’s what brothers should do. care for each other). 

“hi, tommy,” is what he gets in response, a reserved amount of tiredness showing in phil’s tone. the man crouches in front of him, his movements gentler than ever. “haven’t heard from you in a while.”

tommy hears the slight accusation, and so he says, “yeah. things’ve been… crazy, lately. didn’t really have any time to write,” because that’s the best answer. he doesn’t feel like talking about his fear of what would happen if he messaged phil about everything wilbur’s been doing, and phil came to their world and then the blame would fall on tommy and wilbur would hate him even more, or the way each day proved to be harder to get through and contacting his dad slipped his mind so often he’d be too embarrassed to admit. there’s an unspoken _let’s talk about this later_ that phil seems to catch on to.

“don’t worry about it. c’mon, we need to get you patched up, “phil cuts the conversation short, getting up and offering tommy a hand up. “tubbo, you too. you both need to rest.”

none of them says anything about the place where wilbur died ringing with dead silence or techno standing sullenly on the side all by himself. tommy is grateful for that (not that he’ll ever say it out loud).

they go up to niki and fundy who are sitting together by some chests and quickly put up resting cots. maybe because what both tommy and tubbo need right now are familiar and comforting faces that don’t feel like betrayal. niki’s leg is outstretched and propped up on a near rock. one of fundy’s arms has bandages hastily wrapped around it. their clothes are torn and battered. dust is sitting on their faces, mixed with sweat and drops of blood. most of all, both are wearing looks of utter exhaustion.

they perk up upon hearing the trio approach, breaking up their hushed conversation. niki looks over them, her face staying on phil only for a second longer. fundy outrightly stares at him, not paying any attention to the others. he seems deep in thought about something, so tommy turns right to niki.

“have you seen wilbur?” is probably not what niki was expecting. her head shoots up to tommy, clearly taken aback. 

“i don’t think he’s here yet, tommy. respawning might take some time,” she winces and looks to the side. “the wound seemed pretty… deep.”

tommy hums in response. so what if phil’s sword has left a mark so big it’s going to take wilbur ages to recover from internal injuries? he’s getting impatient. wil may have been a dick before he died, but tommy just wants to be sure he’s okay.

phil speaks up, looking mildly uncomfortable, “well, boys, we should take care of you both now. sit here, i’ll help you.”

and so he does. tommy vaguely registers being sat down on a cot, and then he thinks and can’t bring himself to stop.

because why did wilbur do all of this shit in the first place? made him so many promises and then broke every single one of them, almost as easy as snapping a twig. did tommy really mean that little to him? their sparring sessions which always ended in someone crying or yelling, their petty fights and arguments about the smallest shit possible, their vulnerability shared during those quiet nights when everyone was already asleep, all in their first and only home, back with phil and techno.

but this home is gone now, isn’t it? even if phil came back to them, it’s too late to try and glue back together this broken family. 

tommy doesn’t want it to end. he wants to be a child again, his only worry being who finished his favorite cereal or why is techno taking up his couch spot. that was a long time ago, though. feels like centuries.

at least tubbo is still with him. he never really left. even when he had to work with schlatt (which is not something they’re going to talk about soon, probably. tommy feels there’s a lot to unpack, and none of them are ready for that), his heart stayed in the same place.

tommy looks up to the sky. it’s so dark, he muses as his eyes glaze over the black and grey clouds. 

“it’s not looking too good up there,” says tubbo as if he’s reading tommy’s mind (at this point, who knows? he probably is). “i hope it gets better soon. we need sunlight if we want to repair l'manburg.”

“yeah, big man. you have any plans yet?” tommy asks, hoping for anything to take his mind off wilbur and techno and all this stupid chaos. somewhere along the way phil pushes his head down (“tommy, keep your head straight. i’m still not done”).

“i’m not sure. we should start with assigning everyone roles. we’ll need all the help we can get. each of us in charge of other stuff, y’know? oh, by the way, fundy, i’ve been meaning to ask you-”

“you’re phil, right? wilbur’s dad,” fundy’s voice sounds dazed, making him seem as if he just woke up, yet it still cuts through tubbo’s unfinished question, successfully silencing everyone else sitting in their little circle.

“yes, that’s me. why?” phil looks up from where he’s moved to working on tubbo’s nasty slash in his shoulder. 

fundy only hums and swiftly gets up (does this guy have such a high pain tolerance or what?). he begins to walk away, stumbling only one or two times before niki shots them three an apologetic smile and hurries after him.

tommy, tubbo and phil are left in an uncomfortable silence none of them tries to fill in.

* * *

he loses the sight of tubbo for one second. one tiny second and suddenly tommy’s all alone, which also leaves tubbo alone to walk through the past roads of l'manburg, now only scraps of what used to be great. and it’s not like tommy’s worried about him - he’s the president, he can fend for himself, and even if something did happen that would be none of tommy’s business alright. 

it just would be nice if tubbo stopped disappearing each time he takes his eyes off him. 

he turns on his heel and braces himself for a long, probably fruitless search for his friend, about to take in the stride- 

then there’s a flash of pink hair in the corner of his vision that makes him stop. obviously, in the place that tommy could swear was empty just a moment before, here sits the ever so mighty technoblade. 

tommy should just move along, he knows, _okay._ let the man be, after everything he’s said and done. but it’s hard, letting go of someone who used to be so close (who may still be family?).

“hey, bastard,” and jesus christ, why did he say that. 

techno looks so incredibly bored as he looks up, “tommy.” and that’s that. no _hello_ or _how are you doing?_ or _sorry for destroying l’manburg and being a massive dick_. 

he already feels anger building up inside him, at his stupid older brother who can’t seem to care about anyone but himself. he thinks, _do you want to be a hero?_ and maybe he doesn’t. but if techno wants to play an idiot then tommy will gladly humor him. 

“why did you do this, techno?” he asks, because it only feels right. “you betrayed us.”

“i didn’t betray anyone, tommy. hadn’t i told you?” he meets tommy’s eyes and it feels as if he’s reading through his very soul. “as long as i’m standing, there is no place for the government here.”

tommy scrunches up his nose. “yeah, and we told you from the beginning we’re going to rebuild our nation along with the government and you helped us. and then- and then you turn on us, like that! i know you don’t like our plans but you didn’t have to go this far! we’re a family, you can’t just- do this kind of shit!”

“last i checked, family didn’t mean much to you, either,” techno shrugs and boy, is tommy _pissed_. 

“how dare you even say that? you weren’t with us most of the time, off to your dumb potato business, not bothering to write or anything, and you come here and say i don’t care? i was right here with wilbur all the way, you know. i saw him crumble to fucking pieces and for what? i just… i don’t know. maybe i hoped you would at least help us, in the end. not only put another nail in the coffin.”

there’s a minute of silence as techno stares at him, eyes calculating, taking tommy apart piece by piece. this gaze has always held something unnerving, a steelness that made people cower. tommy really doesn’t want to go back to the times when he had only been introduced to phil’s kindness and techno had scared the living shit out of him with all the staring and threatening silence that he later on discovered to be plain awkwardness. but they grew apart and at some point his brother had started feeling like a stranger, in a way; the kind of person you used to know, a long time ago, but now there are only bare scrapes of almost gone memories.

“you’re doin’ it again, tommy,” techno only says. who knows what’s going on inside his head.

“doing what? if you’re just trying to insult me again-”

“tryin’ to be a hero of this story, i mean. and i said it already: good things don’t happen to heroes.”

“yeah, and then you started talking about this thomas guy or something- look, i don’t care about him or your ‘history repeats itself’ bullshit.”

“you should trust me on this one,” techno’s brows furrow in a frown that tommy can distinctly recognize as sadness. “heroes never get the _good_ treatment. they don’t get crowned in all their glory, or praised for their bravery. we- they get thrown away like the worst scum after doin’ their job. so think again, tommy. do you really want to be a hero?”

he doesn’t respond, after that. lets the silence stretch for a while longer. he’s not in a mood to talk about techno’s unpacked trauma, way too much anger buzzing through him, for now. 

techno’s out in his own world, probably caught up in the past. tommy knows to leave him alone when he’s like this. and so he does, awkwardly shuffling out of the area. he still needs to look for tubbo. 

* * *

a few days pass before tommy has the time to properly talk to his dad. they come in flashes of healing, tactical discussions and preparations for l’manburg rising anew. everyone’s busy. it’s understandable, really. tommy himself, as tubbo’s vice president, is doing his damn best to help as much as he can. 

there are first sketches of a new government with tubbo leading in. fundy is supposed to take on the role of the foreman of state and quackity is insisting on becoming whatever-the-fuck-is a ‘sexy-terry’ of state.

they’ll manage somehow. together. 

techno is nowhere to be seen, as well as wilbur. niki and sam both say they should give wil time. that even if he’s already respawned, he might be wanting a bit of space for himself. tommy can respect that. he also doesn’t want to talk to techno, and he knows tubbo wouldn’t want to, either. so thing are rolling, for now at least. 

he can tell phil isn’t happy with the situation, but he hopes the man will come around, eventually. he’s not a fan of seeing his dad so tense, and if it brings up feelings he wanted to leave bottled up forever, nobody has to know right?

so a few days pass by and on one chilly evening tommy and phil are sent out to get more wood for the stands. he doesn’t really want to leave tubbo alone among the people left to build, because the lines between allies and enemies has long since been erased and at this point it’s impossible to tell who you can trust (maybe except for a few people who shall not be named). but eret (who had got dethroned, which, kinda a loser move) has promised to keep an eye on the new president and tommy is willing to quote her on that. 

he laces up his boots (the ones that phil had brought back from their home one night, after realizing how poor tommy’s wardrobe is. for some reason, dad has a habit of going to their homeworld every few days for some hours. tommy does _not_ dwell on this). manifesting an axe in his hand, he stands outside next to phil.

“ready to go?” asks his dad and he nods curtly. 

the woods are way empiter now. be it because of the explosion itself, or the pollution it had caused - the wildlife seems to be withering away. they’ve already started a renewing operation, though, which is mostly just planting saplings, speeding up their growing process. it works, to some extent, repeat and so on. 

tommy swings the axe at a tree. his leg aches and he winces, losing his step. the axe embeds itself into the truck and stays there while he tries to regain his composure. maybe going so violently wasn’t the best idea, after all. before he knows it, he’s sitting on the ground clutching his leg at the shin, cursing out everything that comes to mind. 

“you okay?” phil drops to his knees before tommy, almost unnoticeably holding out a hand. when he gets only a dark look in response his hand withdraws. “we should probably go back now. it’s getting late and we’ve got enough wood for some time.” 

“what? no, tubbo said we’re gonna need at least ten stacks, we have to get them now.”

“toms,” his dad sighs and there’s this hint of something resembling disappointment in his voice that tommy absolutely hates. “tubbo won’t get mad at you and you’re obviously still not healed. you could’ve told us you’re still hurting.” 

“everyone’s hurting and yet we’re all working. i can manage. and it’s not like it’s anything big,” he looks away, ashamed as if he were lying, even though he isn’t. just to prove a point, he gets up as quickly as he can, wincing at the pain that shoots through him. phil stands up after him, too, axe already back in his inventory. 

tommy stumbles again which makes phil rush to his side, putting one arm around him for support.

“i know it’s hard, kid, but i’m here to listen to you, whatever you want to talk about,” his dad sends him a pensive yet knowing look. “is this why you haven’t been writing?”

oh well. it’s time to crawl into a hole and never come out. maybe tubbo will bring him food every now and then.

“i told you, there was just too much happening. i wanted to write, really! but we were busy with getting exiled, people switching sides left and right, wilbur going all crazy on us. stuff like that. it’s not like i hadn’t missed you, you know.”

the arm around him tightens its hold. “what i know is that there’s something you’re not telling me. if you don’t want to say it, you don’t have to. but i need you to remember you can trust me, alright? i’m sorry i wasn’t always with you. i love you - all of you - so much. seeing you like this…” phil breaks off, words seemingly dying in his throat. there’s still a lot left to say, things neither of them knows how to express. 

tommy sniffles, trying to make it as quiet as possible. god, the cold ache left by the feeling of longing for his dad doesn’t seem to be going away any time soon. it only feels to be getting worse, even when the man is standing right next to him, keeping tommy in his arms. 

he doesn’t want to cry. he doesn’t want to feel weak. there’s still a quiet voice in his head urging him to prove himself, prove to be strong and worthy of his family’s love. 

“yeah,” he croaks out, voice choked because of sobs that threaten to pile out. “okay.”

he wants his dad to promise him safety. to tell him he’ll never have to go through something like that again, that he’s not the one to blame for wilbur’s fall. that what he did was enough. that phil’s proud of him. he doesn’t say any of that out loud, keeping it in the back of his mind.

this is not done, not at all. one day they’ll come back to it and talk it out. but as tommy shakes slightly, fighting back all the tears, burying his head in phil’s chest, he thinks that for now, it’s good. better than he expected it to be.

* * *

it’s far into the night when they come back, tommy limping only slightly. he knows his face is all blotched and he does his hardest to not think about that. they pass only a few people on their way to the make-shift base, phil exchanging some nice words with them as tommy’s head is hung low. 

“tubbo’s at your bench, if you want to talk to him.” phil’s hand stops him from going any further when they arrive at the chests’ spot. tommy blinks. how does phil even know that?

he nods nonetheless, and begins another walk right after, this time without any support. it’s not the easiest, with all the holes still not filled in and severed pathways. 

“hey!” tubbo shoots up once he hears tommy approaching. he visibly deflates seeing him so downcast, but doesn’t say a word about it. “you missed the sunset.” 

there’s no accusation in his voice, only a hint of concern.

“yeah. getting wood took longer than i thought.” 

“it’s okay. you could’ve still gone for it tomorrow or something, though,” tubbo looks over tommy once again as he sits down on the bench next to him, light glow of the torches nearby making everything seem so calm. “did something happen?”

it’s not really a question; tubbo obviously knows something went sideways during his and phil’s trip. 

“not really. i mean- i just… don’t know, kinda.” tommy shrugs. man, he’s feeling so beat up. going to sleep sounds really nice about now. he’s so incredibly tired. “have you thought about what comes next, yet?”

tubbo looks deep in thought only for a few seconds, “of course. i’ve got so many plans to rebuild l’manburg, y’know. i can tell you about them tomorrow.”

“no, i mean like- what happens now. to us.” it feels stupid, asking it like this. but tommy wants to know the answer. it’d be nice to be sure tubbo is staying, at least.

“huh? well, you’re my vice president, right? i can’t have you bailing on me,” tubbo smiles even more brightly, and tommy silently promises himself he’ll always remember the way it makes him feel all warmer.

“i guess,” tommy mutters. a realization hits him and he slouches on the bench, staring up to the sky full of midnight stars. “that means i’m your right hand man, now. that’s so embarrassing.” 

“you’re falling off. but i don’t think it matters. as long as we’re together, yeah?”

there’s still a feeling of suspense in the air, ever since the battle. but it’s been getting lighter lately. 

“yeah,” tommy says. his hand reaches over to grab tubbo’s. deep in his heart he already knows they’re going to come far.

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this took such a long time and its still bad. lets go baby !! 
> 
> pls tell me if u find any mistakes. i crave gaining Knowledge. 
> 
> and also thank u for reading lulw


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